


Cartagena Nightmares

by LibertyKingdom



Category: Miami Vice (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 22:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21279059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibertyKingdom/pseuds/LibertyKingdom
Summary: Answer to this prompt from @fallsekings"What happened?"This contains vibes and spoilers from the Smuggler's Blues episode of Miami Vice with a good deal of variance in some places.





	Cartagena Nightmares

The Cartagena fiasco happened. How a mission that started out as simple surveillance one got so out of control, felt impossible to explain. It had become incredibly complicated and messy. The solid focal points melded together like a pack of crayons left in the hot Miami sun.

It had been a voluntary exercise at the behest of Ed Waters who belonged to the DEA. At least ten kidnappings and massacres had gone down in the Miami Metro Dade area. All of the victims had been drug smugglers under investigation by Law Enforcement Agencies; state, local, and federal. Making the targets people who didn’t quite have the luxury of turning to the police. Whoever was dispatching the people to Hell had to carry a badge. Worse still, they had to have access to case-files. 

As a result, the DEA solicited Tubbs and Crockett’s voluntary assistance. They were to hit Colombia and buy at least a million dollars worth of Coke. Then they were tasked with smuggling the massive load of Coke back into Miami. An interagency memo would be circulated in hopes of provoking the killers to go after Ricki and Sonny. But since this would not be an officially sanctioned case there were quite a few strict and dangerous stipulations to which, they had to adhere. The first being, that they could not retain possession of their badges or passports. If they’d find themselves in trouble in Cartagena they would not have the protection of jurisdiction or the law. They would not be able to consult Castillo or the others for assistance. Worse still, being caught without proper identification forms could get them permanently removed from their homes in the states and relocated to a dangerously volatile area. Second, they’d have to make all their own travel arrangements and plans. The DEA and Vice departments wanted plausible deniability if things went to HELL in a handbasket. 

Things were supposed to operate smoothly. But when do things ever go accordingly to plan? The simple in and out operation took several harrowing turns. In spite of every precaution that Tubbs and Crockett had taken, Tubbs had been captured at gunpoint and detained by the foreign Policia. She couldn’t break cover. She couldn’t admit to being a cop from the states even if she wanted to. She didn’t have any kind of validating identification on her. 

Her coffee and evergreen hues took to observing the riotous scene beyond the deep iron bars keeping her separated from the others. Words of other prisoners in slurred, hurried Spanish battered her trained ears. Yet, she is powerless to do anything but bear witness their mistreatment as she experiences her own. Eight hours in a wooden chair seemed like an eternity. The chair had become uncomfortably stiff against her aching back and her arms had been bound tightly behind her. The guard at her right side delivered a searing backhanded crack to her face, just below the corner of her eye. The bone radiated with pain until she could feel the heavy swelling taking place and marring her otherwise beautiful features. Tubbs doesn’t cry out or even make a sound. She refused to give them any degree of satisfaction. 

The interrogation at the hands of the Lieutenant seemed as though it would condemn her to death. Her folder read a laundry list of violent international crimes. He made certain efforts to reiterate how bad a woman she was. In spite of this, the original cold demeanor of the Colombian Lieutenant melted into something far more amiable. To Tubbs’s astonishment, her gun and jacket had been returned to her with the offer of friendship. It would seem the law and the criminals in this foreign place operated hand-in-hand. The thought of this made her stomach churn violently. But she could not afford to look a gift-horse in the mouth at this particular time. Especially, when the officer had taken it upon himself to personally arranged the meeting between her and the big-time dealer. 

She reconvened with Crockett who seemed to have had an equally terrible night. Every piece of furniture in their motel room had been reduced to splinters and tatters of fabric. This helped make Tubbs all the more eager to depart for home.

They meet up with the Colombian dealer and managed to do business with him. In spite of the drug dealer nearly getting them both nearly wiped off the face of the map several times. Apparently, this guy had been keen to live up to the expectation of stereotypical drug-dealers. 

Everything before getting in the rickety silver plane passed quickly. If she weren’t suspecting more trouble, Ricki might have let out a sigh of relief as she settled in beside Crockett. The conversation remained tense and the air seemed to retain its headiness with the expectations of what could await them on the ground in Miami. Rubber tires bounce against the unsteady sand and rocks of the ground below.

The forty-kilo bundle of Coke was then retrieved from the pond in which, it had been dropped. It was heavy but she and Crockett both managed to get it tucked away in the trunk of her car. Of course, the entire time Crockett fumed. He took to venting his frustrations about the case and Tubbs was certainly inclined to agree with. Just as Crockett slammed down the hood, the cocking of a handgun captured their attention. 

Great! More bad dudes. Exactly what the exhausted duo didn’t want to see. Within seconds they find themselves surrounded, guns pointed in their directions. The only guns Tubbs and Crockett both had access to happened to be tucked away under the tires of her car. All she needed was for the guys to take their eyes off of her so she could get her fingers on it. And thankfully, that distraction came. A car she recognized as Hannibal’s black 1967 Ford Mustang bounded down the country road, the tires kicking up dirt and dust in their wake. But before he was within a hundred feet of the scene a hail of bullet whizzed through the air, cracking with thunderous pops upon finding targets; which happened to be trees and the suspect’s cars. Her first priority was to disable their means of escape. Then she and Crockett could focus on safety next. 

A series of bullets plinked down hard on either side of Tubbs while she races towards the offending parties. She hurriedly attempted to fire back. Her efforts are rewarded with the strike of hot metal which screwed into the muscles and tendons just below her shoulder and another in her upper thigh. Dizziness set in and she slowly slunk to the ground with a thump. 

Crockett had borrowed her car, speeding off after a fleeing portion of the party as Hannibal joined the fight. Sonny had realized Tubbs would have help and that made him feel all the better about leaving them. Otherwise, he would not dare abandon her. They did, however, needed to collect all the killers or this mission would have been for nothing. They couldn’t afford to have the ones who got away spoiling their efforts and tipping off the killers. 

Eyes flittered open again as s a shadow drifts over her crumpled figure. A gun still wrapped in her bloodied fingers and she lifts it with the intent to kill. But suddenly, Tubbs’s hardened features falter upon locking eyes with Hannibal. The gun is returned to the holster. “B..bout time you got to the party. I…. I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.” Ricki teases, though her tone is pained. Oh, she had certainly noted his car’s arrival but in the melee of battle, she hadn’t seen him get out or approach her. But she is grateful. 

“It’s a long story,” she grumbles in reply. Her trembling hands move to cover the fresh wounds. Unfortunately, she can not hide the brutal swelling in her face from where she’d been beaten in prison. But never-the-less, she offers him a shaky smile. “I’m… just glad you’re here.”

“Two questions,” Tubbs breathes, “how’d you find me? And how’d you know I was in danger?”


End file.
